Projection
by ShadeOfWine
Summary: Izaya knows about psychological projection. However, he doesn't quite know everything about himself. Also, some new dangerous people have made their way to Ikebukuro, but what could they possibly want? Eventual Shizaya.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Izaya Orihara knew about psychological projection.

In high school, he often recognized it in his classmates. Many of the bullies would call their victims "dumbass," when they were the real dumbasses. Many of the catty, "popular" girls would call others "ugly," when they were the true ugly ones. It's a defense mechanism. Not many humans want to be honest with themselves when it comes to their own shortcomings.

Izaya was a genius when it came to psychology. Without his knowledge of the mind and its workings, he'd never be able to manipulate his precious humans. He would use this knowledge to force them into taking part in his experiments. Most of the time, the experiments he conducted came to predictable conclusions. Sometimes, however, they did not. These were the experiments that interested him the most, and in some cases, these experiments consumed him.

His obsession with Celty's head and the afterlife is a good example of this. Oh, how badly he wanted to know what awaited him after death. The results of that experiment were a mystery to him. He sometimes considered the possibility that he may never solve the mystery of the afterlife. He truly hated this possibility. He truly hated not knowing.

Another good example is a man. A man with dyed hair, a bartender outfit, and an unstoppable temper. To Izaya, however, Shizuo Heiwajima was no man. He was a monster. His inhuman strength, unpredictability, and unwillingness to listen to reason were all reasons why Izaya hated him. Also, Shizuo was sometimes smart. Izaya thought that this intelligence had no place residing in such a monster. That was a pain. As much as Izaya found unpredictable conclusions interesting, when it came to Shizuo, they infuriated him.

Yes, his hatred of Shizuo Heiwajima was something Izaya knew existed. It was a certainty, much like the coldness of a winter or the heat of the summer.

Izaya also thought he knew why he hated him. However, he was wrong about that little detail.

Izaya Orihara knew about psychological projection.

However, he didn't recognize it in himself.


	2. Chapter 1: An Ordinary Morning

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone for reading this/commenting/following!  
>This is chapter 1, by the way, I meant to write a note last time, but I completely forgot, haha. That was indeed the prologue (I've edited it to reflect, as such.)<br>Anyway, I hope you enjoy!  
>_<p>

Izaya awoke one chilly, mid-January morning to utter silence. His room was still bathed in darkness, he could only see a tiny sliver of light shining in from underneath his curtains. He rolled over and checked his phone. The bright screen temporarily blinded him, but after a moment he saw the "6:32 AM" displayed in front of his eyes. It was earlier than usual. He wondered if he should try to fall asleep again. After all, he had some important things to take care of today. He needed his rest.

After a few moments of tossing and turning, he gave up, stood, and meandered into the bathroom. He turned on the bathtub faucet, adding in some mint-scented bubble bath. Izaya Orihara might be one of the most feared people in Japan, but he still liked to smell nice, just like any other human being. Not that he actually considered himself to be human, of course.

After bathing, he dressed himself in his usual black shirt and jeans, turned the coffee maker on, and sat down at his desk. It was now 7:18AM.

The coffee maker dinged, and Izaya poured himself a mug full. No milk. No sugar. He enjoyed the natural, bitterness that the liquid possessed, unlike a certain faux-bartender who undoubtedly made his coffee with milk/sugar to coffee ratio of 10:1. Izaya cringed at the thought of that much sweetness.

After leaving some coffee behind for Namie, he began scrolling through his various email accounts. He began with "Nakura's". A handful of messages, mostly from teenage girls, had been received over the course of the last 10 hours or so. Izaya responded to a couple with a gleeful smirk, and then turned his attention to his own, professional account.

There were far more emails in this inbox. Many were from clients, asking for information, advice, or both. Some were from addresses he didn't recognize, either new, potential clients, or spam. He carefully deleted the ones that had "COnGRAtS! YOu'Ve WOn a FRee IPAd!" and "I am a prince and I need YOUR help!" in the subject line. There were also a couple emails from Tsukumoya, which Izaya deleted without reading.

At that point, Namie arrived. It was 8:00AM on the dot. Izaya could hear the clacking of her heels as she made her way down the hallway.

"Morning," she said, her voice lacking any expression.

"Good morning, Namie-san," Izaya responded, with a grin. She ignored him and poured some coffee, adding only a splash of milk to the dark brown liquid.

A few moments later, Izaya's phone buzzed. It was a reminder for a meeting he had scheduled later that day.

"Well I guess, I better be off," he said, pulling on his coat. Namie didn't grace his with a reply. "See you later, Namie-san."

As Izaya closed the door, a strange feeling suddenly came over him. He braced himself, and slid his flick blade down is sleeve and into his hand. At first he wasn't sure why he felt so uneasy. The hallway looked the same as it always did. There was no one around. It was almost completely silent, except for his own heartbeat. His heart wasn't racing, but it had certainly picked up a bit of speed.

Then, Izaya saw something out of the corner of his right eye.

It was a black line, spray painted across the front door, and onto either side of the wall. He hadn't noticed it right away because he hadn't been looking at the door when he had closed it behind him, but now he wondered how he could have missed it. It was a thick and above it, a series of zeroes and ones had been painted. Izaya took out his phone and snapped three pictures, each from a different angle. After a moment, he slid the knife back up his sleeve.

_Hmm, what to do, what to do?_ He wondered, tapping his foot against the ground.

After a few seconds, he made his decision and left the building. After all, he had a very important appointment to get to.


	3. Chapter 2: Two Important Appointments

**A/N: **Wow, this is longer than I thought it would be, but I suppose that's a good thing.  
>As usual, thank you for reading! Enjoy!<p>

Pulling his coat closer to his body, Izaya made his way to Shinjuku station. The wind was harsh that day. His hair fluttered in the wind, and his cheeks began to turn pink from the cold. It didn't take long before he decided to pull his hood over his head. While he walked, he thought about his defaced front door. It would need to be repainted, and he wasn't sure if it would be a good idea to hire someone to do it. Izaya had no knowledge of the spray-painted mark, but it was probably a type of warning. It had been done quickly, that was for sure. The person who did it must have been watching the hallway because they had managed to do their work in the few moments between Namie's arrival and Izaya's departure.

_It's probably gang-related_, Izaya thought, _but which gang?_ He frowned at this thought. He thought he knew about all the gangs in both Shinjuku and Ikebukuro, yet the mark didn't look familiar.

As he was lost in the musings of his own mind, Izaya arrived at the station with no memory of how he got there. That was to be expected, though. His subconscious knew how to get back and forth from his apartment to the station because of how many times he made the trip. He probably could've done it blindfolded.

He boarded a Yamanote line train bound for Ikebukuro, took a seat, pulled out his phone, and began examining one of the photos. The black line was sloppily done. It wasn't straight; the right side was lower down than the left. Thin, vertical stripes of paint had trickled down here and there. It was a quick job, after all. The person that did this was cautious, but clearly not a professional.

Izaya turned his attention to the series of numbers painted above the line. They were also crooked, some were thicker than others, and the ones toward the end were wavier and closer together. He began to wonder if the perpetrator had heard him coming and picked up the pace.

The numbers read: 0100001001001000.

With the amount of binary to text translators that Izaya knew existed on the internet, he was confident that he'd be able to figure out what those numbers meant as soon as he was back in his apartment.

The train pulled into Ikebukuro station as soon as Izaya put his phone back into his pocket. He departed, and made his way through the bustling crowd to the West exit. As usual, the station and the city itself were busy. Many people were going to work; all of them bundled up in jackets and scarves with tired, defeated looks on their faces. Izaya never understood why people hated winter as much as they did. He enjoyed the chilly air. He liked watching his breath drift upward to the sky in long, smoky puffs, at least until it reminded him of Shizuo and his smoking habit. After that, he held his breath.

It didn't take him long to reach his destination. He knocked on an old, wooden door and after a moment, a voice spoke to him. He answered back, providing a password with a confident voice. He was let inside. A tall man, whom the voice belonged to, ushered him forward.

"Shiki-san has been waiting for you, Orihara-san," he said in a gruff tone.

"Good."

The man felt the need to direct him to Shiki's office, despite the fact that Izaya had been there plenty of times before. After all this time, and Shiki still didn't trust him. For a moment, Izaya was annoyed at this before conceding to the fact that he clearly had good instincts.

The tall man knocked on the door to Shiki's office.

"Yes?"

"Orihara-san is here to see you, sir."

"Send him in."

The man opened the door, let Izaya in, and then immediately shut it. Izaya knew that he must be waiting just outside, in case his boss called out for help. However, he also knew that doing so was completely unnecessary. Izaya knew better than to do anything that would put him on the Awakusu's bad side. He wasn't stupid. Shiki had value to him, and Izaya had value to Shiki. Their relationship was a symbiotic one; a useful one.

"Have a seat," said Shiki from behind an intricate desk. He had been typing on a laptop, but had since closed it and placed it in a drawer. Izaya took a seat on a plush, red loveseat across from him.

"Good morning, Shiki-san," he said with a hint of a smile.

"Let's cut right to the chase. I have a new job for you."

Izaya didn't reply, but watched as Shiki opened another drawer and pulled out a short stack of papers. He pushed a few of them across the desk, and Izaya carefully picked one up.

It was a photograph depicting the side of a hideous lime green car. On the driver's door, someone had spray-painted a white circle. Inside the circle were two letters: "WG." Izaya was so focused on this detail, that it took him a moment to notice the bloody handprints on the back seat window.

"Igarashi Hiro and Mizuno Hideki. They were two of our low-ranking members, and were killed two days ago not far from here. We managed to take care of it before the police got involved, but we don't know who did it," Shiki paused and let out a sigh, "have you heard anything about this?"

Izaya shook his head. No one had mentioned it on the Dollars website or in the chatroom, and none of his usual clients had either.

"What's this symbol on the car door?"

"We haven't figured that out. It looks like a gang sign, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but I don't think I've ever seen it before...interesting."

"What's interesting?"

Izaya pulled out his phone and showed him a picture of his door.

"That was just painted this morning. Do you recognize it, at all?"

Shiki shook his head.

_Yes, this is very interesting,_ thought Izaya.

"Send that photo to me when you get back to Shinjuku," said Shiki, "I'll ask around and see if anyone knows anything. I'd like you to look into the murders of Igurashi and Mizuno. I'll email you a rough estimate of the compensation you'll receive if you're able to give us enough information."

"That sounds splendid, Shiki-san," Izaya replied. They both stood and Shiki walked him to the door and opened it. Surely enough, the tall man was right outside.

"See Orihara-san to the exit, please."

"Yes, sir."

They were about halfway down the hallway when Shiki called out to them.

"And Izaya, this goes without saying, but keep the details as quiet as possible."

"You worry too much, Shiki-san," Izaya called back with a wave, "Just let me do my job."

And with that, Izaya was back on the street. The meeting had taken less than thirty minutes and it was nowhere near lunchtime, but he decided to pick up some of his favorite otoro sushi before heading back to Shinjuku. It was really the number one thing he missed about living in Ikebukuro.

He only made it two blocks before something heavy crashed just inches away from his heels. If he had been walking any slower, he would have been crushed, but he had heard the vending machine coming before it had even been launched at him. After all, he had developed a killer instinct for large, flying objects being thrown by monstrous men in bartender uniforms.

"IZAYA!" Shizuo exclaimed.

Izaya spun on his heels and faced the man who was quickly advancing on him.

"Aw, Shizu-chan, it's still early. Can't this wait until later?"

Shizuo growled and accelerated.

"I guess not," muttered Izaya as he spun back around and began to run.

And with that, their usual chase began.


	4. Chapter 3: The Chase

**A/N: Hi! Sorry it took me longer than usual to update. Here's another semi-short chapter.  
>I'm thinking that this will be a pretty long fanfiction overall, so<strong> **I want to break it up as much as possible. **

**As usual, enjoy, and thanks for reading! :)**

Sometimes, Izaya felt as though he was in a nature documentary when he was being chased by Shizuo. He pictured himself as an innocent rodent being pursued by a wild, primal beast. In his mind, the camera would pan from him to Shizuo while some middle-aged man narrated their actions.

_Here, we see a monster in its natural habitat._

Shizuo ripped up a lamppost from the ground, as dozens of citizens looked on in frightened awe.

_The monster is incredibly violent, and volatile. He lacks intelligence, but makes up for it in brute strength._

Shizuo chucked the lamppost at Izaya, who managed to dodge it by turning a corner.

_For some reason, the monster enjoys hunting innocent prey out of anger, or perhaps jealousy, rather than necessity._

Shizuo turned the corner. He was quickly gaining on Izaya.

_This monster is a persistent being. Watch him go! He appears to outmatch his prey._

Izaya abruptly spun around on his heel.

_However, the prey has developed numerous adaptations in order to deal with the dangerous beast._

Izaya removed three throwing knives from his right jacket pocket and flung them at the quickly advancing Shizuo. He avoided two of them, but one struck him just under his left eye.

_The prey is well versed in sharp objects, and is far more intelligent than his pursuer._

The knives only slowed Shizuo down a little, but it was enough to allow Izaya to make it to the end of the street and turn another corner.

_The prey—_

All of a sudden, something caught the eye of the smug information broker, and he stopped for a moment. There was a mark on a building across the street; a black line under a white circle. He switched direction and ran toward it.

This move perplexed Shizuo, but he followed him, and narrowly avoided being hit by a car.

Izaya took out his phone and snapped a quick picture of the graffiti. For a split second, he forgot he was being chased. That was unusual. It was almost like he was entranced; entranced by the unknown workings and organizations of this town.

A sharp pain in his shoulder brought him back to reality.

Shizuo had thrown a bench at him, and he had sidestepped a split second too late. It almost knocked him over, but he managed to keep his balance and escape down another side street.

_Stupid monster_, he thought as he ran, clutching his left shoulder with his right hand. Instantly, he realized he had made a mistake. He hadn't turned into a side street, but into an alleyway, surrounded by very tall walls on all sides. He was cornered.

"It looks like this is it for you, doesn't it, Izaya?" Shizuo asked in a gruff, mocking tone.

_This is bad_, he thought. He couldn't climb over the walls, especially with his injured shoulder. He could try to run past Shizuo, but he didn't think he'd be able to make it.

"What makes you say that, Shizu-chan? There's no way I'd be killed by such a brainless monster," he replied, trying to remain as composed as possible.

"It seems you're the brainless one, flea. Why'd you stop so suddenly back there?" Shizuo asked, and forcefully pushed him against a wall.

Izaya's shoulder was on fire. An involuntary gasp escaped from his throat.

"That's none of your business Shizu-chan."

Shizuo drew back a fist and punched him right in the shoulder. He howled, and pathetically slumped to the ground.

"This isn't like you," said Shizuo in an almost disappointed tone.

Izaya let out a short laugh and then sighed. _Maybe this really is the end of me,_ he thought.

All of a sudden, something else caught the faux-bartender's attention, and he turned his head to the left. There was something on the ground and above it was a white circle with "WG" scrawled in the middle. Izaya couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before.

The curiosity got the best of Shizuo and he went over to take a closer look at whatever was lying on the ground. It looked like a lumpy, rolled up carpet. When he got closer, he stopped suddenly and squatted, straining his eyes at the dark figure below. When he figured out what it was, he gritted his teeth.

Sticking out of the carpet was a pale, bloodied foot.


End file.
